Boromir's Odd Adventure
by Galahan
Summary: Boromir has an odd adventure. Set before the Quest. This is based on a plotbunny from SkyFire's generator. Read, Enjoy my slightly whacked sense of humor, and Review.


Disclaimer: I don't own it. Tolkien owns LOTR, and SkyFire's plotbunny generator came up with the plotbunny.

A/N: Does anyone ever read these anyway? If you haven't read any of my other plotbunny fics, just understand that lunch with Glorfindel is dangerous. Enjoy. And drop a review if you're feeling especially nice.

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Boromir's Odd Adventure

He was standing in a forest. It was rather dark. He didn't know how he'd gotten here. Or even the location of 'here.' He'd just appeared from... from where? He couldn't quite remember.

A long moment of thought brought an image to his mind. He was lying on the ground, looking up at Aragorn, who seemed to be a bit teary. It took him an instant to place the image. Then it came to him. It was right after he'd... PLEDGED THE SCRUFFY RANGER HIS ALLEGIANCE BEFORE HE DIED!

No. That was NOT possible. Not at all. It must have been a dream, he's sure of it. After all, Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, neither needed nor wanted a King. No ranger who'd spent his entire life hiding from Gondor and her troubles would ever have his support. 

Deciding that his sanity was something to extensively worry about later, he started to walk along the path that led away from this spot. The direction was an easy choice, as the only path around ended (or perhaps began) at his feet, almost as if it had been created for him to take.

After a few minutes of slow walking, Boromir came upon something that almost qualified as a clearing. The trees thinned out and the underbrush became mostly tall grass with a few scattered bushes. From the sunlight that trickled through the canopy, Boromir could tell that it was early evening.

"What a wonderful surprise it is to have such a gorgeous young lady as you pay me a visit. And your white stallion with bells braided into its mane is so pretty," gushed a voice from the general area of Boromir's left foot.

Boromir looked down and saw... a rock. A rock with knitting needles, to be specific. Thinking that this could not possibly be the source of the noise and searching for the young lady and her horse, Boromir looked around the clearing. There was no one there besides Boromir.

"No, down by your left foot, fairest maiden," the same voice as before said. 

After checking the clearing for anyone else who had somehow appeared out of nowhere, Boromir looked down. 

"Yes, me. The rock," the voice said. "Perhaps the mere touch of your fair lips would transform me into a magnificent prince."

Feeling very stupid, Boromir said, "I don't see any gorgeous young lady around here."

The rock snorted and said, "Looked in a mirror lately, sweetie? Butt length hair like spun gold, eyelashes like a butterfly's wings, and plenty of character development to drool over. Yes, you're a fair maiden, alright."

Boromir glanced down at his solid, flat chest, inspected his dirty, stringy hair, and ran his hand over his lower face, finding a significant amount of hair. He then said, "I'm not a girl." 

The rock started to argue and plead for a kiss to turn it into a prince, but Boromir, deciding that he didn't like being mistaken for a girl and that he definitely didn't want to kiss some guy who'd gotten turned into a talking rock so that he could turn back into a person and discover that he was being kissed by someone who was NOT a girl, kicked it. It rolled a few yards away and was still. 

After a few minutes passed in silence, Boromir began to feel a little guilty. He had just stomped over to the rock, debating how you could tell if a rock was dead or not when it groaned and said, "Good sir! Pray tell, have you any yarn?" 

Boromir cautiously replied, "No." He was hoping that this wouldn't lead to another discussion about his gender. In actuality, it led to the rock attempting to curse and sound refined, gentlemanly, and dignified at the same time. It didn't work too well.

Once the minor fit was over, the rock said, "Then we must undertake a most glorious quest to obtained such a prized object! This most holiest of things must be completed!" 

Boromir translated the sentence into normal speech, then stared at the rock for a long moment. Once finished with the obligatory staring, he muttered to himself, "When did this become a 'we'? I'm not going anywhere with a delusional rock!"

Boromir's mutter was loud enough for the rock to hear. And it was angry. Which led to quite a bit of very refined, gentlemanly shouting and cursing directed at Boromir. When this had no effect, the rock started pleading. Pleading didn't work either. Boromir might as well have been the stone, and the rock a person trying to speak to it.

Finally the rock said, "My mother's birthday is next Tuesday and I'm knitting her socks. The only problem is that I've run out of yarn. Will you please help me find some?" This time, Boromir reluctantly agreed.

The rock immediately bounced off the ground to the shoulder of the squatting Boromir. "Up, steed! Up, my faithful mount! To Thranduil's castle! To Thranduil's castle! We must gain the holy yarn necessary to us! Faster! Faster!" the rock shouted.

Wincing at both the volume and the content of the rock's little speech, Boromir stood up and started the 'quest.' The rock gave him directions to Thranduil's castle and filled him in on some details. Boromir learned that he was in Mirkwood, that the One Ring had been destroyed only a few days ago, and that the rock's cousins had seen someone who looked quite a bit like him get killed by Orcs and have his body sent over a waterfall in a boat for a burial. 

It was during the middle of the second day of their journey that Boromir realized something rather startling. He was not always solid. During the middle of the day, he was flimsy and transparent. So much so that the rock couldn't ride on him.

They had just reached the gates of Thranduil's castle when the rock had one of its random delusions. It was nearly midday, so Boromir just concentrated on being flimsy and transparent. The rock dropped right through him, ranting about how close they were to achieving the goal of their quest and how important this was to the salvation of Middle Earth. 

Boromir ignored the rock and walked through the solid metal gates, intent upon finding yarn so that this 'quest' would be over. He either ignored or didn't notice how freaked out the guards got. They first shot arrows trying to silence the rock without knowing that it was a rock speaking. He did notice, however, when they started shooting arrows through him. 

When that didn't work very well, they went back to trying to shoot the rock. He wished them luck. Maybe if they managed to kill the delusional thing he could get on with his afterlife. Or not. He hoped that this wasn't THE afterlife. Very much so.

It took Boromir several hours to find any place with yarn. It took him several more hours to become solid enough to pick up the yarn. It took him a few more hours to find his way back to the gates.

Unfortunately, by this time Boromir had become very, very solid. So solid that he couldn't just walk through the closed solid metal gates. So solid that he was easily seen trying to leave.

As soon as Boromir came near the gate, a guard cried, "He'd trying to steal the beautiful yarn that the King himself made to knit into socks for his mother's birthday next Tuesday! Stop him!" 

With that said, the guards proceeded to use Boromir for target practice. In an instant, Boromir had three arrows sticking out of his torso. 

"NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Boromir jumped up from the table, clutching his torso. Glorfindel jumped up as well, nearly overturning their lunch. Taking one look at Boromir, the ancient elf lord took the man to see Elrond, who could generally be counted on to fix mental problems. 

A few hours later, Elrond was finishing up with Boromir. Glorfindel was hovering nearby, looking guilty. This time when Elrond asked normal, everyday questions, Boromir gave normal, everyday answers. Satisfied that Boromir was once more his usual, not very insane self, Elrond tried to figure out what had happened.

"What happened, Boromir?" Elrond gently asked. He didn't want to unbalance his patient again. After all, that would mean another few hours of fixing mental problems, which was not Elrond's favorite thing to do. He preferred reading.

"Aragorn suggested that I have lunch with Lord Glorfindel. He said it would be a good way to get to know some of the elves up here. I took his advice and had lunch with Lord Glorfindel. And then... I don't know." Boromir sounded like his normal self. He was a little puzzled as to what had happened and how he had gotten here, but otherwise was none the worse for wear.

An angry look crossed Elrond's face. Both Glorfindel and Boromir quailed. "That was a very foolish thing for my foster son to do." His voice gentled as he explained things to Boromir. "Strange things always happen when you eat lunch with Glorfindel. It is not a wise thing to do." 

Boromir nodded his understanding. Glorfindel just looked guilty.

Elrond ascertained that his most recent patient was truly back to normal, then let him leave the Healing House. Glorfindel accompanied Boromir, still looking guilty. 

Boromir glanced over at his very guilty looking companion and said with a grin, "Let's have lunch together again tomorrow."

Glorfindel darted off. Boromir never saw the elf between ten in the morning and four in the afternoon for the rest of his stay in Rivendell.

End.

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Plotbunny: Boromir decides to go on an adventure with a delusional rock that had been knitting socks in Mirkwood.

A/N: I know I said I'd have the sequel to The Revenge up, but it's having developmental issues. So you got this. Read, Review, and be happy.


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